In the dim, gray light of dawn, Maester Oswell hauled a bucket of bloody meat up the winding steps to the rookery of Starfall.
It was his morning ritual: feed the ravens and check for dark wings bringing dark words—or indeed, any words at all—from other castles.
As he chopped the meat and tossed it into the cages, aches flared in his old joints, and a heavy weariness settled into his limbs. He had served this castle and its lords long enough to see two generations pass. He had delivered the children of two lords, and the children of those children.
He watched the ravens flapping their wings, fighting over the scraps with boundless vitality.
"I am truly getting old," Oswell muttered, sinking into his chair and massaging his knees. "But... I cannot be old yet. Little Ned is still so small; he needs my counsel."
"Ned" was the nickname of the young Lord, Edric Dayne. He had been named after Lord Eddard Stark—a decision made following Oswell's own counsel to the previous Lord of Starfall.
"Old! Old!" a raven croaked, flying in from the window to land on his shoulder.
Oswell fed the last of the meat to the bird and unrolled the parchment it carried. Seeing the wax seal stamped with a snowflake and a peach, he didn't break it open immediately. Instead, he made his way straight for the main keep.
---
"Maester Oswell? You haven't broken your fast yet."
Allyria Dayne saw him push through the door and gestured to the table. "Please, sit. Today we have minced ham and gull eggs spiced with fire peppers—your favorite."
Allyria was the aunt of the young Lord Edric. She bore a striking resemblance to her late sister, Ashara Dayne, though her eyes were not violet, but the same deep, oceanic blue as her brother, the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.
With the main line of House Dayne reduced to just her and the young Lord, the affairs of Starfall were managed by Allyria, Maester Oswell, and the old Master-at-Arms, Ser Clegg.
"My thanks, My Lady." Oswell took his seat and handed the letter to Allyria. "This arrived with the morning flight. It is from Arthur Snow."
Allyria broke the seal. As she read, a smile spread across her face.
"He writes that he has already passed the Stepstones. By my reckoning, if the winds are kind, we shall see him in three or four weeks."
"May the Seven preserve him on his journey... No, I must go to the Sept and light a candle. I'll take little Ned with me."
Saying this, Allyria stuffed a whole gull egg into her mouth. Chewing with her cheeks puffed out, she mumbled, "Ned will be over the moon. The boy has always been so shy, keeping away from children his own age. When he learned he had a cousin, he bounced on his bed for half the night before he could sleep."
"My Lady, your table manners," Maester Oswell sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I have told you a thousand times, yet you do exactly as you please."
"Oh, good Maester, am I not just too happy?" Allyria swallowed and gave an embarrassed smile, moving to stand up. "I promise, there won't be a next time."
"My Lady, wait. I have counsel to give," Oswell said, his face turning grave. "You know the words men speak in Westeros: Bastards are born of passion and lies..."
Before the Maester could finish, Allyria rolled her eyes and interrupted, mimicking the tone, "—and they grow up faster than other children, for their blood is tainted by treachery."
"Good Maester, ever since we received that letter from Lord Eddard Stark in Winterfell over a year ago, you have recited this to me. I could say it backward."
She leaned forward. "Arthur is my sister's son. He is named after my brother. The blood of Starfall runs in his veins. He would never harm me or Edric."
"My Lady, I brought Arthur Snow into this world myself. I hold no prejudice against the boy," Oswell's voice was calm but firm. "But our lack of prejudice does not blind the world. Twelve years, My Lady. Twelve years of scorn and cold stares can change a person. We do not know what kind of man he has become."
"Until we understand his purpose in coming to Starfall, I advise you to keep your guard up."
"Understood. Eat slowly, Maester, I must go," Allyria stood up impatiently and curtsied quickly. "Forgive my departure."
"My Lady," Oswell called out, "remember you must take Lord Edric to hear the petitions of the smallfolk later."
"Maester, you handle that. Take Ser Clegg with you. With the two of you there, any problem can be solved."
"But..."
Before the Maester could protest, Allyria had already swept out of the room. From the corridor, he heard her muttering, "The Maester talks so much, simply because he doesn't welcome Arthur."
Oswell was old, but his ears were still sharp. He heard her parting words, and the fork in his hand suddenly felt heavy as lead.
I cannot be old, he thought silently.
At least... at least I must see little Ned reach manhood. Ten years. May the Gods be merciful and grant me ten more years.
---
The Sept of Starfall
In front of the statue of the Smith—one of the Seven Aspects of God—several candles flickered. The dancing light cast shadows on the stone face of the Smith, giving the idol a solemn, holy aura.
One large figure and one small figure stood with eyes closed in silent prayer. Beside them stood Septon Arles, who tended the shrine.
It was custom that when a loved one was at sea, their kin would light a candle to the Smith, praying that the ship would be strong enough to bring them safely home.
When the prayer was finished, a tender voice asked, "Aunt Allyria, is Cousin Arthur truly coming to Starfall? It's been over a year... I thought he wasn't coming."
"He is coming. He said he's bringing you many gifts from the Free Cities," Allyria answered her nephew. "Did you not read his letter?"
Young Lord Edric Dayne had hair the color of pale silver and large eyes that were a deep blue, bordering on violet.
"I... I couldn't read all the words," Edric's round face flushed red, and he scratched his head shyly. "Besides, I... I don't want any gifts."
His voice grew quieter, until it was barely a whisper, like the buzzing of a fly.
"I just... I just want a brother."
Allyria smiled with affection and ruffled Edric's hair. "I believe you will be great brothers. Just like my sister and I, or your father and your uncle."
"Then... should we prepare a gift for him?" A thoughtful look crossed Edric's deep eyes. "But I don't know what Cousin Arthur likes."
"Oh, I neglected that." Allyria clapped her hands together so sharply that the draft snuffed out a few candles. "We will ask Maester Oswell later. He always has good counsel."
"My Lady," Septon Arles, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward to relight the candles. "The Faith frowns upon bastards, but the stain of bastardy is not the child's fault."
The Septon continued, "I hear that Northmen mostly worship the Old Gods. We could hold a baptism for Arthur Snow, to bring him into the Light of the Seven. That way, the people of Starfall might look upon him more favorably."
"If he serves well and stands his vigil in the Sept, he could be anointed a Knight. Perhaps even follow in the footsteps of the previous Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne, and join the Kingsguard."
"Convert to the Seven?" Allyria asked, her tone strange. "Become a Knight? A Kingsguard?"
"There is precedent for bastards rising to the Kingsguard," Septon Arles explained hastily, mistaking her tone for curiosity. "Ser Marston Waters and Ser Mervyn Flowers both wore the White Cloak."
"Sep... Septon," Edric hid behind his aunt's skirts, his voice trembling. "That... that is not a gift. At least... not the kind I would want."
"Arles, thank you for your suggestion," Allyria nodded politely, but her eyes turned icy cold.
"However, if someone met me for the first time and told me—with the tone of offering charity—to change my gods, I would slap them across the face."
"Remember this, Septon. Arthur Snow is my sister's son. He is my nephew. He requires no 'change of image' to please anyone in this castle!"
"My Lady, I... I spoke out of turn," Septon Arles broke into a sweat, his voice dry. "You know... I am a pious man... I only meant..."
"Go, Arles," Allyria waved her hand as if swatting a fly.
"Leave us, for the sake of the Seven, before I start thinking Starfall needs a new Septon."